


My Hobbit

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: The Many Lives of Bilbo and Thorin [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, crackish, thorin use your words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Thorin is acting strange. He keeps insisting that Bilbo not leave his sight, to the point of manhandling Bilbo to his side. And rather than help the poor Hobbit fight this insanity, the rest of the Company keep laughing at him.





	1. No

**Author's Note:**

> My Dad just had quadruple bypass surgery and it's been hard helping to take care of him. I was in desperate need of cheering up, so I wrote some fluffy crack. I hope everyone enjoys!!

Things have recently, oddly, changed. Bilbo Baggins has gone from the semi-tolerated burglar, to a valued friend and companion. This  change in attitude was not surprising when coming from Fili and Kili or from Balin and Dwalin.

It was, however, utterly unnerving and strange when exhibited by the soon-to-be King Under the Mountain. Given the almost scathing attention heaped on the Hobbit from Thorin prior to this, it is no wonder that he finds himself confused by the Dwarrows behavior.

* * *

It begins with the Company settled around the evening fire as many things do. Bilbo has finished passing out bowls of stew and is preparing to take his place between Fili and Kili as he usually does. No sooner is his backside positioned that he may drop into the space between the precocious brothers, than he feels a large hand tangling in the back of his jacket.

"No." Thorin's voice is a commanding base note among the general sounds of the night coupled with the soft conversations. 

"What?!" The Hobbit yelps when he feels himself being prevented from sitting. "But -" 

"No." Once again the Dwarrow issue that single word command, leaving the poor Hobbit feeling utterly confused even as he is dragged away from the pouting brothers. He stumbles as he is moved, barely managing to keep from spilling his supper as he is marched around the fire and unceremoniously dropped upon his poor backside. The crimson heat of a blush flares across his cheeks when he realizes that he is now sitting in the middle of Thorin's bedroll. 

"Uhm ..." He had every intention of asking what the hell had just happened, but his brain and tongue refuse to work in tandem. 

"Eat. Now." Another command issued by their Leader and Bilbo is taking a bite before he realizes. His obedience, however, lasts for but a moment before his Took'ish nature rears it's rebellious head. 

"Now see here! I was perfectly set on sitting exactly where I planned to sit!" The Hobbit huffs a chuffing breath, trying to see the wisdom of his own words even as he shovels more stew into his mouth. 

"You are sitting where you are meant to be seated. Now eat." Thorin's voice has deepened, reaching a timbre that leaves Bilbo feeling warm and fluttery all over.

With a sigh, the Hobbit shoves his spoon into his mouth, openly glaring at the dwarf as he eats in silence. He is beginning to learn that he must pick his battles when it comes to the ornery King-to-be.

* * *

Choosing to ignore the insanity of Thorin dictating where he was allowed to eat, Bilbo finds himself collecting the supper dishes and piling them up for Balin to clean. He had offered to help, but the old Dwarrow had simply smiled that eye crinkling smile if his and politely shooed him away. 

So, the halfling finds himself standin on the outskirts of the gathering, gazing into the distance as he allows the fellowship of the Company to wash over him. It feels like being swaddled in warmth and brings a half smile to his recently weathered features.

"Ready for bed, then?" Bofur's pleasant voice snaps the Hobbit from his thoughts.

"Yes. Quite.." He shakes himself before grabbing his bedroll and heading off after his friend.

He is in the middle of laying his kit out when he once more feels the hand grabbing at his jacket, yanking him away from his task.

"No." Thorin's voice once again comes out of nowhere, commanding as it always seems to be.

"Now see here, you grabby little --! " He may as well have been whispering for the acknowledgement his words get. Thorin simply proceeds to talk over him.

"Bofur, you have first watch, Dwalin, you second." Poor Bofur tosses an angry glare at Bilbo, who is sure that this situation is in no way his fault. It is completely and totally Thorin's fault, and whatever insanity has gripped the Dwarf. 

Before he can question what is happening, he squeaks in displeasure when Thorin let's go of his jacket only to begin spreading the halflings bedroll next to his. So close, in fact, that the two bundles slightly overlap. Which is why Bilbo feels perfectly justified in adding a sqwack to that original squeak. 

"Sleep, Master Burglar. Long day ahead." The words are somehow softer than the previous orders, but still a command. 

"I have every intention of sleeping. Exactly where I originally planned to sleep."

"No." This time, that singular word is tinged in such weariness that the halfling has no intention of arguing. For now.

"... fine." He does not bother trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. Simply lays himself on his bedroll, back to the Dwarf as he prepres to sleep for the night.


	2. Nope

Time is a strange, and yet, inconsequential thing. He knows by the same sort of logic that a Hobbit knows when to begin planting their garden, that it still ebs and flows as it always has and ever will. But he no longer follows it's calculating structure.

Instead, he now measures the passing of days not by the sands of time, but rather, by the odd Events that take place.

Five times Bilbo has found himself manhandled from his chosen spot to eat. Deposited, instead, wherever the ornery King-to-be saw fit. Usually close enough to said King that Bilbo could have easily reached out and touched if he wanted to. 

Three times, he found the laying of his bedroll interfered with. Thorin always stopped him from placing it, only to snatch it from his hands and lay it beside his own.

This strange, frankly -insane- behavior, has begun to take it's toll on the poor Hobbit. Indeed, he has felt his own patience and sanity beginning to fray around the edges. He knows that he is verging on snapping, as all creatures are want to do, once they have been pushed too far.

* * *

Bilbo is tired. Not exactly an unusual state of being these days, but an irritating one none the less. He had spent nearly half an hour demanding Thorin let him sleep where he wanted last night, only to end up right next to the Kingly bastard. Again.

He yanks his bedroll up, folding it angrily as he surveys the Company breaking down camp with their usual efficiency. The feeling of his anger abating is welcome, his thoughts instead turning to the happiness of knowing these fine Dwarrow as friends.

"Come along.." Thorin's voice is clipped and demanding, prepared to brook no argument and Bilbo would almost swear that he physically feels something inside of him snap 

"Nope." His voice slides into a cool, defiant timbre as he continues to watch the movements of his friends. In fact, he has allowed his gaze to linger on the sight of Fili and Kili pressed close, whispering among themselves. No doubt up to somethings . Wisely, the Hobbit has long since given up trying to predict what mischief the two of them will engage in next.

"......" The silence from the Dwarrow pulls his attention away from the younger Dwarves and instead redirects his tired gaze to their leader. Thorin looks so shocked and confused that Bilbo would be laughing himself silly at any other time. "You are riding with me today." For once, the commanding tone had fled but now the words are stated as if a truth that Bilbo must simply accept. Yeah right. 

"Nope." He squares his shoulders in defiance even as he bends to pack his bedroll away. 

"....."

"....."

".....what." The word is phrased as a statement and this brings a wretched and ill-humored laugh from the Hobbit. "Your mount is in need of rest, you are -"

"Nope." This time, Bilbo very carefully enunciated the single word in much the same way he would to a fauntling that was being particularly stubborn.

Before Thorin can seek to question or order him further, he stomps over to the precocious brothers and flashes them a half crazed smile. Fili takes one look at him before braying with laughter, mounting his pony, and taking off. Kili, on the other hand, gives him a warm, fond smile, and has lifted and manhandled him onto the front of the saddle before he can say much.

"Don't worry, Master Boggins, you can ride with me." The Hobbit is so thankful and so tired, he doesn't even bother trying to correct him on his name.

* * *

The ride was long and arduous, though Kili was the perfect foil against boredom. They spent the day laughing, exchanging stories and jokes until Bilbo felt as if he were finally approaching some semblance of normal again.

"Break." Thorin's authoritative voice cuts through all other sounds, and Bilbo is sad to realize it immediately puts him back on edge. "Halfling. You will break with me. " 

The words grate upon his already frayed nerves, needling new holes along the edges and leaving him feeling raw and exposed. In fact, some primal instinct in him wants to lay on his side and curl inward to protect his vulnerable belly. That instinct is no match for his Took'ish nature. 

"Nope." he sighs the word even as Kili carefully lowers him from their mount. The moment his Hobbit feet are back on the ground, he feels some of his muscles loosen.

" You will -" Thorin's voice has taken on a sharp edge and it cuts Bilbo to the quick. But still his mouth opens to repeat that word.

"Nope. Let me spell that for  you, my King, that you may fully understand  
N. O. P. E. Fili!" The poor gentle-Hobbit all but snarls the name of his friend, feeling relieved when he appeared.

"Yes, Bilbo?" He could practically kiss the dwarf for realising that this is not the moment for playfulness. 

"May I break with you, lad?" 

"Of course, Master Baggins." The relief the Hobbit feels is nearly palpable as he side steps the furious King-to-be and follows after his friend.

"You know he means well, little Hobbit." Fili speaks with words soft and earnest and poor Bilbo isn't sure what to believe.

"He may mean well , but ... never mind " He snaps the words out with a distinct lack of anger, deflating a bit.

* * *

The insanity continues!! Four separate  times Thorin wandered back to demand Bilbo ride with him and four times he answered with a stern Nope. (And four times Kili's arm had tightened protectively about him.)

They have finally managed to break for the night, Thorin taking longer than usual to call a halt  
Gi en the sour look Dwalin keeps throwing in his direction, some of the Company blame the Hobbit for their  leaders ire. 

The smell if cooking meat does little to entice the Halfling and were he not so tired, Bilbo would be worried for  himself. As is, however, all he can think about is much needed sleep.

"Eat." Thorin's voice has slipped into a chilly temperature that leaves Bilbo feeling snow burned but still he is not prepared to bend to the Dwarrow's will.

"Nope." The word I'd sleep slurred. Thick and heavy upon his clumsy tongue, but discernible all the same. He nearly giggles madly when he sees a muscle twitch beneath Thorin's eye. Its such a -common- thing to are upon such regal features.

"Even you are not so infuriatingly stubborn as to refuse to eat when it is needed, Halfling. Now EAT!" The fi al word is an unmistakable growled snarl and still Bilbo cannot find it in himself to comply. Instead, he grabs up his bedroll, nearly over ending himself twice before he manages to find his balance.

"Nope. What I need is some bloody sleep. Now leave me alone!" Bilbo stomps off in the direction of Fili and Kili, utterly surprised when they quickly put their food too the side. Kili wraps him in a fond, protective hug even as Fili gingerly takes his bedroll and lays it between theirs.

".....fine." Thorin murmurs the word forlornly before turning and skulking away to keep watch. Meanwhile, the Durin brothers gently tucked their little Hobbit friend in.


	3. Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has actually com's to mean more to me than I ever expected. 
> 
> I started it with the intention of it being crack-ish ... instead, I seem to have established a Middle Earth crack den. 
> 
> Either way, I really enjoyed writing this!
> 
> And thanks to everyone that reviewed, left kudos, and gave this fic a chance.

The Company find themselves quickly spiralling into Hell. It is not the blissfully slow spiral that the descent into madness brings or the gentle slide that sin brings. No, they find themselves flung wholly and fully into the raging inferno depths as their surprisingly merry little band of adventures are faced with the hostile anger of Dwarrow King facing off against Hobbit Burglar.

Now, one might find it odd that a band of hardened Dwarrow would find it hard to deal with the anger of their friends fighting ... and usually, that would be true. If they were engaged in any kind if -typical- fight.

"Why doesn't Thorin smack the wee Hobbit in the backside with the flat of his blade? That is a right Kingly way to end this nonsense ." Dwalin' s lips peel back to brandish his teeth in a silent, gaping snarl as he watches the scene unfold before them. He has never felt so betrayed by his King or so ashamed to call himself Dwarf before.

"Master Baggins could just as easily shin Thorin and force him from this foul mood." The entire Company turn wide, astonished eyes onto the softest, sweetest of their lot. Ori's oft times befuddled features are an array of conflicting emotions. There are the obvious love and adoration for his King, but they war with anger and hurt on behalf of his friend.

"I think **Irak’Adad** (Uncle) Bilbo should be treated better." Fili's words are petulant yet earnest. He would not begrudge his Uncles the affection he sees between them, but he **would** see his Uncle Bilbo treated with the respect he deserves. 

Kili hrmphs softly in agreement, shifting uncomfortably where he stands. As one of the most impetuous among them, he -really- wants to rush in and break this up!

"I think ... I think I'm gong to be ill. Of all the indignities ..." Dwalin's words are a surprisingly high pitched wail of woe, his hands twitching involuntarily.

Several yards before them, Dwarrow and Hobbit are engaged in a battle of wills that would put any Dwarfling and Fauntling to shame.

"Just STOP TALKING TO ME!" Bilbo's voice is a sharp, cutting cry of outrage as he struggles to wrestle the stew pot over the fire Thorin has spent the past ten minutes starting. Dramatically. He may as well have stamped one of his big, booted feet and demanded Bilbo pay attention as he was doing so. The Hobbit had studiously ignored him, of course, as he knew perfectly well that the best way to get revenge on an arrogant sod was to ignore them at the height of their attention seeking. 

"....." A vein has begun to throb in Thorin's forehead, but the Halfling is far too busy to pay attention. He has finally managed to place the pot and turns for the sole purpose of glaring daggers at the Dwarrow. 

"A little help would be greatly appreciated! Or is that too much to ask?!" When his scathing words are met with silence, he -does- stomp one of his  large, bare feet.

"Are you going to say something or not?!" Thorin actually growls at that question, stalking toward the Halfling that angers him so.

" You just demanded that I stop talking to you, Burglar. Make up your mind!" The Company groan loudly though the two are arguing too passionately to hear.

"Oh!! Am I -allowed- to do that now, my King? Am I -allowed- to have my own thoughts and make my own decisions or will you shake me by my jacket with a stern -No- for that as well?!" The poor Hobbit actually jumps in place several times to emphasize his anger before he begins to fill the stew pot.

"You keep making the -wrong- decisions." It is now Biblos turn to feel a muscle beneath his eye twitch and spasm as he clenchs at the words of the Dwarf.

The rest of the Company take several obvious steps back at Thorin's words. Fili and Kili both suck in soft, exasperated breaths and look to their Dwarrow Uncle with pity.

"By the Shire ... Arrogant Dwarf Lords .... Talking out their backsides ..." Bilbo's words have entered a sort of half-sentence form of being. 

"I do believe our poor little Burglar might explode." Gandalf huffs, his own voice steeped in utter amusement as he goes about fixing his pipe. Fili and Kili glance toward the wizard momentarily before turning back toward their Uncles.

"Arrogant !? I am -not- arrogant! It is hardly my fault that I am always right and -you- are always wrong!" The Company take several more steps back. Dwalin and Balin both facepalm themselves.

"I think we are following an idiot." Sweet little Ori speaks in wisdom even as Kili levels Fili a most suffering gaze.

"... I'm choosing **Irak’Adad** (Uncle) Bilbo in the split. You can go be Prince Under the Mountain." Fili scowls and reaches out to viciously tug his brothers ear.

"Hey! I will be right there with you and Uncle Burglar at Bag End." 

"It's settled, then. Balin, Fili and I are now Gentle-Hobbit-Dwarrow. Thank you for everything you have taught us. I am sure you can visit the Shire whenever you wish." Depsite the playful nature of the words, they are spoken in earnest.

"I wonder if Master Baggins might be in need of an accountant?" Kili practically dissolves into a fit of giggles at Balins words, even as Ori nods along. 

"Perhaps a Scribes as well?" There is a surprising amount of hope in the voice of the Dwarf.

"And a cook to boot. Could use a itroe fattening up, could our gentle burglar." A round if sturdy, agreeing nods is almost as comical as Dwalin suddenly throwing his hands in the air in defeat.

"Ah, bury it all. I may as well offer my services as a guard to his personage. At least until the Shirefolk banish us all." They share in a laugh of friendship before the arguing once more pulls their attention.

"So it is wrong of me to sit with Fili and Kili when I eat? To speak with Bofur when I have watch and knit with Ori I when he needs the company? It is -wrong- of me to choose where I lay my bed at night??" The poor little Hobbit voice creaks and cracks with the strain of shrieking at his King. 

Meanwhile, the Company have turned their backs on the fight. Instead, Gandalf is standing st the head of them, sighing wearily.

"Right. Those remaining in the Company of Thorin to the left. Those ready to name themselves Shirefolk to the right." -No one- is surprised that the right group is the largest of the two.

"Yes! FINALLY! The halfling gets it!" Thorin booms these words with a warrior triumph and Gandalf is ready for the migration of several Dwarves from left to right. 

"Asshat." Dwalin sniffs abysmally, shaking his head in utter disgust at his King.

"I...... I...... I....." The Company wince in sympathy for the poor, broken Hobbit. They have all suffered under the yolk of Thorin's stubborn nature before. The big difference being that they are Dwarrow and he is their King. Bilbo is not bound to suffer this.

"...Burglar?" 

"You ... you overgrown, arrogant, controlling -FAUNTLING-!! What in the name of Dalireen is wrong with you?? -Why- do you care who I sup with or who spend my time with?" 

The Company have banded together and begun to pack up their things in preparation for the trip back to the Shire. It would be another long, arduous journey but there would be no Wargs or dragonfire waiting for them. They could all live a nice, peaceful life plying their trade to Hobbits while their sweet Burglar spoiled them rotten. 

"BECAUSE YOU DO NOT SPEND THAT TIME WITH ME!!" Thorin's loud, booming voice shakes the very trees, draws a whispered yelp from Ori. "You gift everyone in this Company your time but -me-! I am left with only the option of -forcing- you to give me even a moment and by Aule, I am happy for even that little bit of time!" 

The Company stops in their tracks, turning, gape mouthed, at the admission from Thorin Oakenshield.

"For Shores sake, you ruddy great Fool! All you had to do was -ask-! Enough with this damnedable manhandling or I will shine you right and proper!"

"FINE!" Thorin  growls, cheat heaving as he glares at his Halfling

"FINE!!" Bilbo snarls, hands clenches into fists at hos sides. Half a minute later, and the two have thrown themselves at one another. They collide with pained groans swallowed by eager, desperate mouths 

"About rutting time!" Dwalin howls this truth, angrily unburdening his pony even as Or Iooks on with wide, emotive doe eyes.

"But ... but ... doz this mean Mister Bilbo isn't going to adopt us??" Even Dwalin is not so cruel as to break poor Ori's heart.

"No, lad. I'm pretty sure it means Master Bilbo will be your pretty new Mummy Under the Mountain." The soft sound of happiness Ori makes is totally worth it.

".... But I wanted to be a Gentle-Hobbit-Dwarrow." Kili sobs quietly into the night, even after Bombur throws a smelly old shoe at his head.

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing these chapters on my phone, so they will probably be a little short. But, hopefully, still enjoyable.


End file.
